


Taxes | Launchshipping Ficlet

by anamnesisapproaches



Category: Pokemon - Fandom
Genre: And Lots of It, Arguments, Love/Hate, M/M, Swearing, mention of some Astroshipping, more like hate/love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamnesisapproaches/pseuds/anamnesisapproaches
Summary: Just an average day at the Rocket HQ in which Archer and Proton roast each other a lot.





	Taxes | Launchshipping Ficlet

“Hey, uh…. I’m gonna go see Saturn… Can you cover….?” Petrel turned nervously to face Proton, who was busy licking a red popsicle at the moment. The commander only liked such things because they were the same hue as freshly spilt blood. 

“Uh-huh, sure, now leave me alone, I’m busy.” Proton passed off the minor request without second thought, continuing his deep thoughts upon the book he read as Petrel nervously inched out of the room and off to meet up with his boyfriend. 

The book was a horror novel, but the writing was so bad it was good. The way they described the gore scenes was so wrong. 

“Cutting into fresh flesh isn’t like slicing through fog….” Proton grinned deviously, shaking his head absentmindedly. He let out a sadistic laugh, licking his finger before turning the page. 

“God, this book sucks~” 

“Then stop reading it.”

Proton froze in his tracks, eyes squinting. He knew exactly who that smooth, confident voice belonged to, and turned to squint at him. 

“Archer. Nice to see you, hot stuff~” Proton automatically began to flirt, giving him a sly look in the eye. Archer simply laughed, plucking the book from his hands. The commander hissed at the motion, and crossed his arms. Archer cleared his throat. 

“And then he stabbed her. And stabbed her again. And again. It hurt, but she was fine with it. Because she was saving him. He was safe. He was safe and she was not.” Archer narrated what was on the page, eyebrows raising. His lips pursed, practically cringing at the sight. 

“It looks like you seemed to have written this. How long did it take?” Archer cooed. Proton turned bright red, not from being flustered, but decently insulted. 

“HEY, AT LEAST I PUT EFFORT INTO MY WRITING—“ he spat, but was cut off by Archer’s shush. 

“Shhhh…. No, it’s fine that you aren’t the creative type…” Archer was obviously teasing Proton, wanting to get a reaction out of him. The commander huffed, crossing his arms pettily. 

“You’re such an ass, Archer. Jeez, why can’t you be like Petrel, he at least was nice when he dumped some work on me.” Proton snipped pointedly, obviously pissed off at Archer. However the tension between them had layers, and they both enjoyed such sessions of snark. 

“It doesn’t matter. So come, follow me, I need to give you some things to do.” 

“What, do you want me to do, entertain the local children of Johto? Maybe dress up in a fairy outfit and frolic in a field with a ton of slowpoke?”

“No, a simple job.” He cooed, voice deep and calm. Once he got into a private room with the green-haired man, Archer picked up a hair brush and decked it at Proton, whom of which caught it as if such an action was second nature. 

“What? Is this?”

“It’s a brush. For you damned hair.” Archer’s grin widened. 

“My what.”

“Your hair. You haven’t brushed it in over seven weeks. You look like a homeless asshole trying to hit on a princess.” Archer snatched up Proton’s hat, and tossed it to the floor. In a smooth movement, he took Proton’s wrist and forced him to drag it through his viciously tangled hair. 

“Ow, ow, OW—!” Proton hissed in pain, complaining loudly. 

“Brush. I expect you to look good for our meeting once birdboy returns from his… Romantic dinner.” Archer almost seemed sarcastic with his tone, but seemed to be into the thought of Petrel finally getting out. Maybe he would build some confidence. 

“Okay, fine, jeez…”

And so, Proton sat there in front of a mirror that Archer supplied, slowly working on the tangled which had developed over many weeks of neglect. The strands of hair were quite stiff, almost like straw in an odd sort of way. Eventually, with enough time, effort, and hairspray, he got it to look well-groomed and smooth. Proton smiled, placing his hat on top, turning his head up to admire his own self. Yes, he admires Archer, but he liked himself a lot as well. A very overconfident way of looking at life, but he loved thinking that he was the epitome of sexy. 

“I’m done, Archer. Whaddya want now?” Proton walked over to Archer’s office. He eyed the man at work, looking around only to see hundreds of papers he still had to work on. They were all stacked up, and the things he had already worked on was only a fraction of what was left. 

“Archer?” Proton raised an eyebrow, eyes softening as his pupils dilated. The look he gave was no longer prickly, or sharp, or even miffed for that matter. It instead had become just as soft and silky as a bunny rabbit’s fur, ready for a prestigious animal show. 

When no response from the leader came, the commander took it in himself to stride over and place a hesitant hand upon his shoulder, shaking he man into attention. Archer’s dull teal eyes gazed up at Proton, who smiled at him. Whether it was to make a good impression, or to simply comfort his leader, he did not know. All he knew was that it happened without his say, and he was fine with that. Archer returned the smile. 

“I’m busy, why are you here…” Archer mumbled in an albeit futile attempt to stay focused. Proton took a seat uninvited, but Archer was used to his obnoxious gall. He would let that slide, but only this once. It isn’t like he would let him get away with anything and everything. It isn’t like he admired how headache-inducingly confident the man was. 

It isn’t like he thought those lips were plush, moist, and absolutely marvelous, ready to kiss. 

“What’s up, Archer boy?” Proton prodded at the stack of papers with an index finger, taking a few off the stack to read. Archer held no protest. 

“Taxes. Kind of. We owe some certain materials to a smuggler’s restaurant. They had paid us for Slowpoke Tails, but you know how that whole situation panned out.” Archer scribbled away on a notepad, brows furrowing and eyes squinting. The man used tiny reading glasses to fill them out, adjusting them from time to time. 

“Jeez, Arceus forbid you actually have a decent day, huh?” Proton scoffed, picking up a pen. 

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I highly doubt Petrel will be back tonight. He is probably… Distracted.” Proton’s voice turned giddy in an odd way. Archer scowled at him. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping you with taxes.”


End file.
